Magpies & Moonshine (Toil and Trouble Book 6) Read online

  As she lifts her hips to tug the scrap of fabric down her thighs, my fingers fist the bedsheets so hard my knuckles ache.

  I want.

  The beast snarls as she drags a single finger through the tiny patch of dark-red curls—making me ache to part them with my tongue. The muscles in my shoulders and back are taut with strain, holding him back, holding myself back. When she slips that finger between silky pink lips, the beast’s snarl becomes my own.

  “Styx,” she says in a throaty whisper that has my cock straining against my pants.

  “I’m fine,” I growl, lying through gritted teeth. “Keep going.”

  Her eyes hold mine as her free hand moves upward, trailing over her soft stomach, the delicate flare of her ribs, the firm swell of one breast. I suck in a breath as she tugs on a nipple with two fingers, her hips starting to circle.

  Her knees drop farther apart now, shyness falling away as her need grows. Her pussy is glistening, slick and pink. The smell of her perfumes the air and my nostrils flare.

  I lean forward, unable to help myself, my fingers inadvertently brushing the arch of her foot. Instantly, she cries out. Liquid wells between her fingers as her toes dig into the mattress, lifting her ass off the bed.

  Before I can stop myself, my hands are on her, spinning us both around. Until she’s a warm weight on top of me; naked, whimpering and needy.

  She isn’t hesitant now. Her small hands roam my body with an eager desperation that tells me she’s mapped these paths many times in her head. The flare of my back, every inch of my chest, but when she trails her fingertips over the line of hair that narrows over my stomach, making my muscles contract, I can’t take any more.

  With a growl, I slap my hand over hers. “No.” Then I force myself to gentle my tone. “Slow, remember?”

  She nods, her eyes wide and dilated, black swallowing the sweet blue-green. The hazy glow there is so breathtaking I shut my eyes to calm myself.

  “What do you need, Styx?” she asks, her voice trembling.

  A whole shitload of things I can’t have. I don’t say that out loud. I only shake my head and lie back, shifting her hips until those gorgeous tits are hovering right over my face.

  I run my fingers up her ribs, brushing the underside of each luscious swell. She holds her breath as I lean up, focusing on her eyes as I suck one sweet strawberry tip into my mouth.

  “Oh.” The little, wondering gasp that escapes her is almost more than I can take. Her fingers tighten in my hair. “More,” she breathes. “Please, Styx, I want more.”

  Of course she does. Greedy girl. I suck harder, letting the edge of my teeth graze sensitive flesh. She moans, lips parting as she stares down at me.

  Lost in her eyes, I slide my hand between us, between the soft warmth of her thighs. She’s all liquid silk and heat. The smell of her drifts into the air again as my fingers slide against her. So wet. A shudder racks my whole body as I fight my own need. The need to feel that heavenly sweetness wrapped around my cock as I drive into her hard and fast.

  I can’t. I can’t let myself take.

  But I can give.

  Deliberately, I tease. Circling closer and closer to the little nub hidden away in her folds, making her hips rock for it. Sucking first one breast, then the other as my fingers find all her pleasure points. Her nails are digging into my shoulders now, digging deep, but I want her marks.

  I ease a finger inside her, groaning aloud at how slick and taut she is, watching her face. Her lips part and her back arches, that long swing of red-gold curls brushing my thighs as her muscles lock on me. She looks like a goddess, like some work of art I’ve brought to life.

  I capture a nipple with my mouth again, alternately sucking and flicking the hard tip with my tongue as she rides my hand just like she rode her own for me minutes ago. I help her find her rhythm, both of us lost in the way the pleasure begins to tighten her body all over again.

  “That’s it,” I whisper roughly. “Come for me, Carly.”

  Her eyes meet mine, dazed and beautiful. Then her pussy tightens on my fingers, a sweet, hot burst of liquid spilling onto my palm. She melts into me in one slow wave, boneless and shaking and moaning my name.

  “Still not a big deal?” I tease softly minutes later.

  She groans. Then her hand is between us, popping the button on my jeans, cupping the painfully hard ridge of my cock. “You tell me.”

  One touch and banked desire ignites into a raging inferno.

  Goddamn it.

  She doesn’t have a chance to make a sound before I have her on her back, her mouth under mine. I bite the swell of her lower lip sharply, one hand twisting and teasing her nipples as I yank her up against me with the other. With a growl, I kiss her the way I’ve wanted to kiss her for months.

  Not gentle. Not sweet.

  Pure, ravenous hunger. The beast, so quiet up until now, howls with satisfaction. And for a moment, just one beat of the heart, I can feel fluttering under my hard hands. I think about letting go, letting him take what we both want.

  It’d be so easy. So perfect.

  So brutal.

  “No.” Shaking, I lift her aside and roll to my feet. “Don’t fucking touch me again.”

  11

  “It’s all right, Styx.” I keep my voice soft to coax him back to the bed even though my pulse is racing. When he flipped me over like that, like I was no more substantial than a paper doll, I finally got it: how fast he could morph from the sweet, patient man I’ve known for months to something that is not at all human.

  It was terrifying to get a glimpse of that monster hovering behind those golden eyes. The messed-up thing is I can’t decide if I was more scared . . . or exhilarated.

  When I reach for the button of his jeans again, he snarls. The sound raises the hairs on the back of my neck. “I just want to see you,” I whisper. “I won’t touch unless you say it’s okay.” I lift my eyes to his. “Please, Styx.”

  I hold my breath until, with a curse, he yanks down the zipper and lets the jeans fall. When he kicks them aside and stands next to the bed, naked at last, I can only stare.

  I’ve always appreciated Styx’s body, fantasized about it daily—the hard, muscled shoulders, the deep planes of his chest, the flat ridges of his stomach, the shape of his ass in his jeans. Most of that has relied on imagination because I’ve rarely even seen him shirtless.

  I’ve never seen him like this.

  The hair on his chest isn’t as dark as his beard, but it’s still stark against that golden skin. The muscles of his chest and back flare as he takes a deep breath, but I can’t lift my eyes just yet. They’re busy taking in the rest.

  What can I say? There’s a lot to take in.

  “You’ve seen naked men,” he says, his voice low and taunting, still dark with need and that hint of rage. “If you’ve been studying up.”

  I bring my gaze back to his face before crawling to the edge of the bed. “Yes, I have.”

  “And?”

  “I like you better.” My eyes drop again. “Much better.”

  A drop of liquid beads at his tip, glistening in the light. I’ve never been sure I would care for oral sex. Receiving sounds heavenly, but the giving thing seems potentially painful and oxygen deprivation is not exactly my favorite thing, but right now?

  I’m so very curious.

  When I lick my lips, his hands tighten into fists. The sound of his knuckles cracking makes us both jump. But when I lean forward and reach out my hand, looking at him hesitantly, Styx freezes.

  “Carly.” My name is half groan, half gasp rolling off his tongue. “This is not a good idea.”

  “Please?” I slide off the bed, onto my knees at his feet. My hand still hovers between us, his whole length twitching and lengthening as if his cock is reaching for my touch. I swear I can feel the heat of him pulsing against my skin, but I promised.

  So I wait.

  After what feels like forever, he nods once.

  I extend
a single shaking finger, aiming for that bead of liquid that is growing larger, ready to slide down his tip. When I make contact, we both sigh.

  I swirl my fingertip in widening circles, coating him with the thick liquid. Even here his body feels so different than mine. There is a hiss of breath through clenched teeth as my finger traces the rim of that swollen head. I am painfully aware I have no idea what I’m doing. For all I know I could be hurting him.

  Frustrated, I look up. “Show me how you like to be touched. Please.”

  I expect him to refuse, to pull away. What I don’t expect is for him to grab my hand and curl my fingers firmly around his shaft. I gasp, my eyes flying to his in shock. “You’re so warm.” I swallow once, looking down again, squeezing reflexively. “And so hard.”

  “I’m aware.” He grinds out the words before wrapping my fingers even tighter, guiding my hand up and down. He’s surprisingly rough.

  “Doesn’t that hurt?” I ask anxiously.

  He laughs. Low and deep in a way that does something to my lower stomach, creating a wave of heat that has me pressing my thighs together. I just came harder than I knew was possible but watching us stroke his cock together has me all fired up again. I take my free hand and stroke his hip, marveling at the differences between our bodies, reaching around to cup the hard tightness of his ass. Gods, his muscles are like iron, warm, silky iron. Against my fingers, his shaft pulses and swells.

  Without lifting my gaze, I murmur, “If I put my mouth on you right now, will you come?”

  There is a muttered curse, then, “Yes,” he growls. “Yes, I will.”

  My hand tightens, forcing him forward a pace. Dipping my head, I part my lips, my gaze flicking to his as I tentatively suck him into my mouth. His taste makes my eyes widen. It’s musky, but somehow intoxicating. Powerful.

  I suck harder.

  Gasping, he forces our linked hands to move faster. My curious tongue finds a lightly ridged bit of skin on the underside of his swollen tip, and when I flick at it, Styx groans. His fingers tighten in my hair, the sound of my name a whisper in the heavy air. Stars burst behind my eyes and liquid pools between my thighs as it hits me: I love this. I may be the one on my knees, but right now, I’m in control.

  I crave making him feel the way he makes me feel. I want to push him into losing control at last, to prove to him that he can trust himself—that he can trust me.

  That we can do this.

  Faster and harder, taking a bit more of him each time, his hand still over mine, I work his length deeper into my throat. Then I feel it. His cock pulses hard against my lips and my eyes snap to his. Those golden eyes are wide, both monster and man looking down at me.

  Then he comes.

  He tries to pull away, but I don’t want to stop. My nails dig into his ass as heavy liquid bursts over my tongue. Then his hand is cupping my head, tangling in my curls, the other squeezing the last bit of him into my mouth.

  When I finally pull back, I give him a bemused smile, my lips half numb but tingling pleasantly. “That was lovely.”

  “Lovely?”

  I laugh as he pulls me into the bed, curling me up against him, pulling my head over his heart. I hardly dare to breathe, his easy acceptance of our closeness heightening my sense of wonder and disbelief as he leans over to shut off the lights.

  “Did we really just do that?” I ask into the darkness.

  “Apparently, we did. And it was fucking lovely.” Styx’s bemused chuckle is the last thing I hear before I fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  12

  The beast hums his approval before rolling over and joining Carly in sleep.

  I stay awake a long while, watching the shadows play. That was amazing, amazing and far too easy.

  But for the first time since I first looked into Carly’s eyes all those months ago, I have hope.

  The tiniest flicker of hope that I can keep her.

  I sneak out well before dawn, while she’s still sound asleep. This time I take pains to make sure no one can touch her while I’m gone. My teeth grind together in agitation as I exit the hotel and glance up at our window. But I have to do this. I have to find out how Cyril figured out my identity . . . and if he told anyone else.

  So I can kill them all.

  Backtracking the dead duke from the cave leads me to his castle. I cloak myself in the guise of one of his servants and enter through the kitchen. It doesn’t take me long to make my way up the stairs and find the master chamber, but there is nothing much of interest. Except the duke apparently had a disturbing addiction to tentacle porn.

  I curl my lip and leave the chamber. Nobody seems to realize he’s dead yet, which is fine with me. As I leave the room, a gust of wind blows a piece of paper from under a table. A name and a number scrawled in what I have learned to recognize as the duke’s handwriting after hours of perusing his personal items.

  Tyr Kanerva.

  I ball the paper in my fist, thinking.

  It could mean anything. Tyr is an assassin of the realm, after all. Or at least he was. I’m certain his services could have been of interest to a man like Cyril Mikhailov at one time or another.

  But still. It bears investigating.

  I’m reluctant to contact the assassin by phone, especially from here, so I decide it can wait until Carly gets back from Asgaard. There’s nothing to suggest Mikhailov told anyone else my identity. In fact, from some of the things Carly said, I’m pretty sure he was keen on keeping the knowledge, and his hoped-for reward, a secret.

  He would have been better off telling an army. I smile tightly, then push open the heavy wooden door again.

  The castle is still quiet, but the morning is getting brighter through the latticed windows. Time to get back to Carly.

  I can still hear the sounds of her panting in my ear, that soft whimper she made right before she came. The way her lips looked surrounding my cock.

  I want her again. Actually, I’ve never stopped.

  Not that we have—or will be—going all the way anytime soon. I still don’t trust myself, or that the beast I contain isn’t playing some sort of long-term game, but . . .

  Touching her, being touched by her? It’s even more addicting than I could have ever dreamed. Just as I feared, every taste makes my hunger for her grow, but so far I’ve controlled it. In fact, each release, hers and mine, seemed to fill an ache inside me, even as another grows.

  If this keeps up, I may not be able to walk away.

  Then again, maybe I won’t have to. That tantalizing emotion continues to tease me.

  Hope.

  Styx is gone when I wake up, but there’s a note on his pillow.

  Finding sustenance. Back soon. Do NOT leave this room.

  I smile and curl the parchment in my fingers.

  He doesn’t return for over an hour, but I have ways to occupy my time. I’m so absorbed that even when I hear the sound of the door opening and smell something delicious, I barely lift my head.

  “One second.” My eyes stay riveted on the screen in front of me, but my body tightens as he approaches. I’ve always been hyperaware of Styx, but now that I know the kind of pleasure he can give me, something primitive in my core hums appreciatively when he leans over the bed.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Playing WoW.”

  I glance up in time to see his nose wrinkle. Styx may enjoy gaming, but he’s even more old-school than I am. He won’t do the online thing at all. I put in a fair number of hours every week but mostly when he’s sleeping or otherwise absent. He steps around to look over my shoulder before I can finish exiting.

  “This is your character?” He raises an eyebrow. She’s wearing what amounts to a thong, thigh-high boots and a bikini top made out of purple leather.

  “I’m a level 98 knight elf.” I grin up at him. “What do you think?”

  “I think I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that outfit in the real world.” He smiles as I shut the laptop down.

 
; “I’m a beast master, you know. A highly skilled one.”

  “Is that so?” Something flickers in his eyes. “And what does that entail?”

  I uncurl my legs and set the laptop on the nightstand as he hands me a plate off the cart. The smell of blueberries makes me smile. “Soothing the savage beast, of course. In any way I can think of. I’m pretty creative.”

  “I bet you are,” he mutters.

  We don’t say much after that. I’m too busy enjoying my breakfast, and after a quick plate of his own, Styx is too busy staring at me. When I’m done, he tucks away our breakfast dishes and wheels the cart outside before joining me back on the bed.

  “About last night, Carly . . .”

  I sigh and scoot away. “If you tell me it was a terrible mistake and can’t be repeated, I swear to the gods—”

  He frowns and reaches across the bed to haul me back up against his side. “Is that really what you thought I was going to say?”

  “You mean it wasn’t?” I blink at him.

  “No.” He whispers, his fingers feathering over my ribs, his eyes on where my nipples are pressing against the thin fabric. “It wasn’t.”

  I suck in a breath. “Then do continue, please.”

  Those golden eyes flick upward at last. “I think you might have a point. About baby steps.”

  My eyes and mouth go wide at the same time. “Ohhhh.”

  He chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. Last night may have been an anomaly. We still have to take it slow. Very slow.” His gaze falls to my breasts again and my fingers curl into his shirt.

  “I liked slow.”

  His lips curve. “Me, too.”

  His mouth finds mine. Then his hands are sliding over my skin and I’m lost. For being slow, this sure feels a lot like free falling off a cliff.

  Only I don’t ever want it to end.

  13

  We get out of the bus with the other passengers about noon. I’ve lived around Lake Superior for a couple thousand years. It’s safe to say I enjoy it. I’ve been comfortable there, as comfortable as a creature like me can be. It’s beautiful and I’m very fond of it.